


@boomerang-guy

by meteor-sword (vaenire)



Series: Zukka YouTube AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tea shop AU, Youtuber AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/meteor-sword
Summary: Sokka has a journaling YouTube. Zuko is an avid viewer.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka YouTube AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827688
Comments: 108
Kudos: 1199





	1. Chapter 1

“The thing about  _ this marker _ ,” Sokka said, carefully filling in the flower’s petals with the red marker, “is that it kind of makes my pen bleed.” The red fill was tinged with black. “That’s okay though. Gives our little poppy some character.” 

That was this guy’s answer to anything that didn’t go as planned. It was a nice answer, Zuko thought. 

A rapping jolted Zuko out of his transfixed daze. He tore his headphones off and jerked to look at his bedroom door where his Uncle stood with two mugs of tea. 

Zuko slapped the space bar on his laptop embarrassingly hard, pausing the video and throwing his headphones on the desk. 

“Yes?” he asked, voice too tight to be as casual as he’d like. 

“I made you tea,” Uncle said, stepping into his room smoothly and setting a mug on the coaster on Zuko’s desk. 

“Thank you,” Zuko said. 

“I see you’re… studying?” Uncle said, unsure as he glanced at Zuko’s screen. 

They both knew he wasn’t studying, but Zuko nodded. Uncle shot him a knowing smile and closed the door behind him as he left. Zuko exhaled hard. 

Being walked in on, even when he was doing something innocuous like wasting time watching videos, did not help him relax after the day he’d been having. 

He replaced the headphones on his head, sparing a thought to how messy his hair will be later, and pressed play again. After another moment’s thought, he grasped the hot mug of tea in his hand and held it close to his chin, breathing in the fresh vapors of his favorite green tea. 

“Right,” Sokka continued. “So now I’ve got my straight edge-- and can I give a shout out to this thing? Because it’s got a little extend-y thing on the side so I can get those  _ nice, nice _ ninety degree angles in my calendar.” He was flipping to a crisp new page in his journal, pausing a moment to grab a brush pen-- a no-name brand that Zuko didn’t even recognize-- and writing the month at the top of the page before grabbing his straight edge again and outlining a perfectly photogenic looking calendar on the page. 

“So yeah, now I’ll draw some more poppies in the margins,” Sokka said, crudely outlining the flowers with his right hand, before switching the pen to his left to finish drawing fat leaves on mediocrely drawn stems, reaching for the red marker with his right. “Anyway, for those who don’t use a habit tracker yet-- which I’ll draw on the next page-- I really think it’s a game changer. Like, I don’t know, sometimes it gets a little much ot try to remember what I have to do every day so it’s nice to have it all in one place. I love drawing mine but sometimes you just gotta use graph paper and put down the stuff you’ve got to do every day like wash your face and stuff. Just keep yourself accountable…” 

Zuko zoned out as the boy droned on about journaling. 

Zuko himself didn’t journal. He didn’t even mean to get into watching  _ boomerang-guy _ ’s journal videos. He’d only ever found the channel from the guy’s video overviewing his weapon collection-- and it had been  _ impressive _ , including a longsword (that the guy  _ knew how to use _ , Zuko found out later from his other videos), an authentic hunting boomerang, knives that the guy had made himself out of jaw bones and whale teeth, and an honest to god war club. 

He found organization videos after following a rabbit hole: from  _ Weapon Closet Overview: check out my stuff!  _ to  _ The Difference Between Scimitars and Piandaos  _ to  _ Organizing my Sword Collection  _ to  _ Organizing My Desk-- all my stationery stuff :D  _ to  _ Omashu Dual Tip Brush Pen vs. Caldera Nib Tip Brush Pen best value????  _

It wasn’t that Zuko was a  _ fan _ of boomerang-guy (or Sokka, as Zuko had learned from the associated Instagram) (and Twitter). Zuko didn’t care for seeing all his ‘stuff’ beyond his swords, but there was something charming about how excited he got showing off all of it. 

And how he, apparently, never edited out mistakes; he would laugh at himself when he slipped up with a sword demonstration or a sloppy calligraphy example, ball up the paper and toss it to his recycle before doing another take. Zuko liked that laugh. 

Zuko was much more serious about his own videos. He scripted them carefully, recording multiple takes and splicing the best parts of each for the final product. The only videos that go mostly unedited were when he reviewed Uncle’s newly acquired tea or teawares, and that was because Iroh didn’t quite  _ get _ the idea of repeating what they had already done for the camera. So the editing was mostly removing the tangents that got too far off base, like when the last white tea reminded Uncle of “a girl he met in his youth, and went to her family’s house for dinner and they served this thirty year old fermented tea that…” 

That was beside the point. Sokka was adding stickers to his habit tracker now. The habits Sokka tracked were interesting, in Zuko’s opinion: he tracked shaving, washing his face, working out, and meditating daily, and then had a weekly tracker for cleaning, watering plants and meal prepping. He had a more complicated setup going into details of what cleaning entailed. 

Sokka flipped back through the work he’d done during the video. “Anyway, that’s my setup for this month. Um, I’ve been working on a video about dagger types, and my Dad and I have an appointment with a museum curator later this week so I think it’ll be a really good video. So subscribe and check that out this weekend. And if you make a spread like mine, at me on Instagram or Twitter! There’ll be a link in the description.” He made a thumbs up in front of the camera. “Boomerang guy, out!” 

Zuko hit the spacebar again before it could auto play another video. He knew he was smiling at the screen like an idiot, but that’s what he watched boomerang-guy’s videos for: a little pick-me-up when he had a moment to himself. He took a sip of the tea Uncle brought him and he was certain this was the best moment of his whole week. 

On a moment’s whim, he grabbed a notebook out of his desk drawer and a calligraphy brush, using some water from his brita sitting on his desk to moisten the ink stick in the ink stone. He could paint poppies, probably better than the ones Sokka made. Maybe he’d even feel like posting a picture of it somewhere. 

He started with a delicate black stem, and then a few fully black leaves followed by the outline of delicate petals and a spattering of small black stamen. This wasn’t so hard. 

He let his work dry as he wet a tab of red paint, adding plain water to the empty white space of the petals before dipping the calligraphy brush into the red paint, carefully adding it to the tips of each petal so that it would bleed lighter to the base of each part. 

It looked nothing at all like Sokka’s, but it was a good little doodle. He repeated it a few times, filling the page with flowers between sips of green tea. He snapped a picture of it with his phone and opened Instagram.

And then his fingers hovered over the keys for another half hour as he tried to think of a clever caption. Eventually he settled with a lame “chilling out at home today. Painted some flowers, inspired by @boomerang-guy.” 

Was it too friendly to tag him? He had said to tag him but, still? But if he didn’t tag him, he wouldn’t see. Not that he wanted a  _ response _ or something. Zuko doubted Sokka really checked his tagged posts, anyway. 

He took a deep breath and posted it. 

Notifications popped up immediately. Mai liked it first, followed by a slew of other regular followers. Ty Lee commented a flower emoji. 

And then. Boomerang-guy liked it. And commented “wow! this is amazing!” followed by a string of smiley face and fire emojis. 

Zuko stared at the comment for so long he could see it when he looked back up at his picture again, etched into his eyes. His cheeks were burning. 

And then a DM notification popped up. He opened it hurriedly, seeing that it was from exactly who he hoped and feared it would be from. 

“Hey,” it read. “You’re not thefireprince on YouTube, are you? I love your videos! :D” 

Zuko slammed his phone onto his desk, grabbed his mug of tea, and promptly went to the kitchen. His cheeks were still burning when he sat at the little table across from his uncle. His uncle lowered the Chinese language newspaper he was reading an inch, peering at Zuko, before shaking his head with a smile and looking back down. He’d hear about it in a moment, he was sure. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka stumbles across the Jasmine Dragon.

Sokka had ninety minutes between when Katara expected to meet him at the cafe next to the museum and when he stepped off the bus in the little historic district tucked at the foot of the city. 

He purposefully left that time so he could explore a little. He loved window shopping in the old home goods stores and the import stores that had everything from candy to books. And he deserved this little shopping trip, really-- he’d been working hard his first year at university and had been tight with his money. 

He punched in walking directions to one of the shops he’d noted down in his journal and started walking. On a second thought, he opened Instagram to see if he’d gotten another reply from thefireprince (because Sokka totally did not already know his name was Zuko from checking his accounts. He wasn’t a creep).

The other guy had taken a while to reply to Sokka’s first DM, giving him plenty of time to pace his room and worry that he’d weirded the guy out. 

Sokka had been an avid consumer of thefireprince’s videos for two years now, ever since Suki had sent him a meme compilation of the guy’s videos. Sokka had thought it was funny at first, until he realized the boy was probably just thirteen or fourteen in the videos being made fun of. Zuko had  _ strong _ opinions, and sometimes they went over the top-- especially when it came to movies. 

But when Sokka found the kid’s channel as it existed today, he found that actually he was a young man around Sokka’s age who posted the best research political essays that Sokka had seen,  _ as well as _ his over the top and genuinely earnest movie reviews. 

Even more intriguing than those two, the guy had a series where his old uncle guest starred, and the two sat at a nice wooden tea table and discussed  _ tea _ . Sokka wasn’t a tea guy, but he tried watching one just to see, and had never let a day go by after a new one was uploaded without watching it. 

Suki got tired of Sokka sending every single one of them to her, but one that she had agreed was  _ really good _ was where his uncle set up a blind taste test, blindfolding him and even putting a clothespin on his nose, and handing him three cups of tea in succession. 

“Hm,” Zuko had said, the sound surprisingly soft for such a loud video personality, and nasally due to the pin on his nose. “It’s light, but it has a little um, edge?” He took another slow sip, swallowed, and opened his mouth a few times, smacking his lips. Above the blindfold, his brows screwed together. “It’s a sheng puer, isn’t it?” 

His uncle grinned and clapped him on the back, which made Zuko jump in surprise before grinning. 

The second cup was quicker. He took a tentative sip, then threw the rest of the cup back. “Too easy, Uncle. Last year’s spring Alishan oolong.” 

“Hah! I chose it because it would be very distinctive,” his uncle exclaimed, spreading his hands out in front of him toward the camera. 

Zuko smiled, and that was the moment Sokka had realized he  _ had _ to subscribe. 

(The third tea was a green milk tea, which Zuko spit out before tearing off the blindfold and glaring at his uncle, which was also very cute). 

Anyway, he’d been DMing with the guy for a few days now-- small talk, for the most part. Sokka complimented Zuko’s painting, asked him if he’d seen any movies lately, and Zuko admitted he’d been binging some Wu Xia classics from his uncle’s collection, and Sokka googled what that was before replying with a “sounds cool, hope to see a review of them soon :P”. 

Now, careful to watch where he was walking on the old brick sidewalk in the historic district, Sokka fervently tried to connect to a nearby shop’s wifi to see if Zuko had replied. As his phone thought about it, he looked around. 

The old district’s buildings only stood around four stories tall at the highest, but Sokka could feel the spectacular amount of history they held. Many of the upper story windows were boarded, and Sokka took a moment to speculate which were the oldest buildings he could see from his spot on the corner. The museum he was going to later was the oldest building in the neighborhood, he knew, which was pretty cool. 

His phone buzzed with incoming notifications as it finally connected. 

“Well I’m excited to see your museum video.” Zuko used eerily proper capitalization and punctuation, and Sokka didn’t know if that was purposeful standoffishness or just… how Zuko was. 

“im on my way to the museum right now :)”.

He could see that Zuko had read the message. With a satisfied smile, he pocketed his phone and continued on his way. The shop was a few blocks further, and full to the brim of imported stationery. He had replaced his expensive gel pens with cheap ones he could buy at the student bookstore on credit, but he really thought he deserved a little splurge. 

He came to the journals section and spent another good fifteen minutes comparing different sized journals, different weights of paper, different page setups— were numerated pages really worth three dollars more?— before forcing himself to put all the journals back on the shelf. He  _ didn’t _ need  _ that _ splurge, and he was wasting precious time. 

He settled on a few packs of pens and markers and a novelty keychain—  _ it lit up, thanks _ , he already had his defense to Katara planned— and checked out. 

He wandered through a bookshop, stopping to admire a stone fountain, before continuing up the block and casually taking in the other stores on the street. An herb shop, a BBQ restaurant, and a tea shop.

Someone went into the tea shop, and for a moment, the door was open wide and the insides were visible to Sokka— a wall was lined with huge glass jars full of tea, teapots and cups and other accessories displayed below the jars, and fancy wooden table to another side with an old man standing behind it. 

A familiar old man. 

The door swung shut again with a jingle of bells, and Sokka stopped in his tracks. 

That couldn’t have been… He scrambled to read the shop’s name: The Jasmine Dragon. It didn’t mean anything to him, it’s not like Zuko name dropped his uncle’s shop in his videos. 

He checked the time. He had a half hour, and it was a short walk to his destination. He could investigate. 

The smell of tea, floral and aromatic, filled his senses when he pushed the door open. The old man was still behind the table— it was one of those great big fancy ones, now that Sokka could see it closer, with the carved in drainage system for tea. 

“Welcome in,” the man said, glancing up from where he was pouring a cup of tea for another customer seated in front of the table. “We are sampling an aged oolong if you would like to join us, otherwise let me know if you need any help.” 

Sokka didn’t even need to  _ see  _ the man to know he was in fact Zuko’s old uncle by his strolling cadence and careful enunciation alone. Sokka’s head raced: that meant Zuko lived in Sokka’s city. And that Sokka was in his uncle’s shop. 

He almost missed the amused smile the man shot him. He opened his mouth to speak again but Sokka raced to beat him.

“Just looking!” he exclaimed, pointedly turning toward the wall of tea jars. 

That satisfied the man for the moment, turning back to the other patron, making the older woman laugh with what sounded like a flirty joke. Sokka browsed the tea selection blankly, not understanding what he was reading at all. High Mountain Oolong, one jar advertised, the balled up leaves of tea appearing forest green. He supposed that was nice? 

Loose leaf puer. West Lake Dragon Well Green. Monkey Pick Oolong. Black needle, silver needle. 

These had to be made up, right? 

"If you see anything you are interested in," the man called out to Sokka again, "You can bring it over here and I'll make you a sample." 

"Thank you," Sokka said, throwing a smile his direction. What the hell was Sokka doing in here? He didn't know anything about tea. Was he hoping that Zuko would just pop around the corner? And then what would he do? 

Absent mindedly, he'd been rounding the side of the tea shop, drawing inevitably closer to the fancy tea table and the man's insistent offering of tea. And really, free tea? Yeah right. Sokka wasn't gullible. 

Once again, the friendly old man interrupted his chatter with the other customer to address Sokka from afar. 

"Was there something you were looking for in particular?" he said, carefully enunciating like always. 

"Um, not really," Sokka said. Now he looked at the tea accessories and again found himself at a loss. There were teapots-- and Sokka knew what those were. But there were little wooden trays, a foot wide and eight inches deep, but two or three inches thick, too, with slats in the bamboo tops. There were little bowls with lids, and teacups of varying shapes that looked like they came in sets, tall and skinny ones accompanying short, squat ones. There were little tools-- little picks with metal tips and bamboo tongs. Glass pitchers with steeping contraptions sitting inside of them, and metal strainers. 

He heard a click of porcelain being sat on wood, and turned toward the old man in time to see him placing a clean tea cup on a wooden coaster and making pointed eye contact with Sokka, raising his brows and looking at the empty seat at the table in front of the cup in askance. 

Sokka sighed. He did have time. He sat, a comfortable amount of space between himself and the older woman for whom the man filled a cup of tea before turning to Sokka and filling his in kind. Sokka thanked him awkwardly, under his breath, realizing too late the woman hadn't said anything before picking up the cup. Sokka picked it up with his fingertips, aware of just how hot the thin porcelain had become within seconds of holding tea. 

The other two had no trouble throwing back the tea, beginning to comment on the flavor or aroma or something while Sokka nervously put the cup to his mouth and promptly burned his lip. He hid the reaction and blew discreetly on his cup. 

"This is the eighth steep of the Da Hong Pao Oolong," the man told Sokka like it made perfect sense. "Time for a new tea. Is there anything you would like to try?" 

Sokka shrugged coolly. "I don't know much about tea, so whatever you two are trying..." What an embarrassing admission. 

The man-- the uncle?-- looked at the woman with a wry smile, and she laughed melodically. Sokka’s cheeks glowed pink, he was sure. 

“You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?” the woman said, knowing smile on her painted lips. 

“What?” he exclaimed sharply, face heating even further. “What makes you say that?” 

“It’s written all over your face,” she said, taking another sip of tea.

"You have been in before, haven’t you?" the uncle said-- and now Sokka couldn't stop thinking of him as 'the uncle'-- raising a brow at Sokka. "I never forget a face. No matter, let us try this nice,  _ slightly _ citrusy, dian hong black,” he said, gesturing enthusiastically with one hand at exactly how slight the citrus notes were as he grabbed a green bag from below the table. He took one of those lidded bowls and tipped some tea into it before covering it with water, deftly sliding the lid back into place and holding it there with the second knuckle of his index finger, grabbing the lip of the bowl with his thumb and middle finger and tipping the tea into a little pitcher, presumably through a little slit left between the bowl and lid. He poured this first steep over a little clay frog Sokka hadn’t noticed before. 

The uncle kept resteeping and refilling Sokka’s little cup for quite some time, commenting to the woman about the subtle notes that Sokka did not notice whatsoever: he did not notice it get “sweeter” on the third steep, or how a new “floral undertone” appeared in the sixth. He sat respectfully, eyeing his watch and wondering how long he should sit before he could respectfully excuse himself. 

When the woman finally decided she had decided on her purchase, Sokka thought he saw his chance. They were smashed, though, when the uncle turned to him as he stood, and said, "If you would like to learn about teas still, let me have someone show you more while I check this young lady out." He earned a giggle from the woman and a deer-in-the-headlights look from Sokka. Evidentally, he took that for a 'yes' and called toward the back of the shop in a language Sokka didn't understand. 

Someone called back, and Sokka felt his face go from burning hot from drinking so much hot tea to freezing cold when he recognized that raspy voice. 

Sokka could barely make himself watch as the curtains separating the storefront from what appeared to be a back lounge were pulled aside: sure enough, Zuko stood there, and Sokka could only allow himself to glance in short bursts or he was sure he'd die. 

Zuko's hair was ruffled, not combed like in his videos, and he wore a god awful baggy striped button down, mercifully mostly covered by the front of his apron, tied tight around his waist. 

And he was wearing glasses, and one side of the glasses-- his unscarred side-- had a piece of cloth secured over it, like an eye patch, and Sokka made himself stare down at the cup of tea in his hand. 

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed. "My dear, did something happen?" She was referring to the eye patch. 

"No!" Zuko exclaimed, and Sokka could see the curtain fall shut again in his peripheral, Zuko disappearing for a few long moments wherein the woman shot a questioning glance toward the uncle, who shook his head. 

“He is sensitive about it, Aunt Wu,” his uncle said quietly, leading her over to the register. 

While the woman was being checked out, Zuko reappeared, his hair a little neater and the patch having been taken off his glasses, and he patted down the front of his apron as he sat where his uncle had been a moment before. Without looking at Sokka, he opened the tea bowl his uncle had been using and sniffed it. 

"Black?" 

Sokka nodded, but again as Zuko wasn't even looking at him, it wasn't like he needed Sokka's confirmation. 

"So you're um, new to tea?" he asked, the flow of his sentence stunted in a way that contrasted sharply against his uncle's. He wasn't too good at this customer service thing. 

Sokka shrugged with a smile. "I guess you could say that. My sister drinks some horrible seaweedy green tea, and that's about all I know," he laughed. "Oh! But I do like my Dad's herbal tea." 

Zuko looked at him sharply now, eyebrows furrowed. "Very beginner, I see." 

That was rude, Sokka thought, but he shouldn't be so surprised. He knew Zuko tended to be blunt, to put it lightly, after watching dozens of hours of his videos. 

He was going to snipe something back, but he was distracted momentarily by the loud laughter coming from where Zuko's uncle was ringing up the woman. Leaning one elbow on the tea table and slipping his phone out of his pocket with the other, he opened Instagram again. While Zuko's back was turned to start boiling water, he typed out a quick 'ur uncle is flirting with that lady a LOT LOL' and clicked send. 

He heard a buzz from Zuko's apron pocket and he smiled broadly. Zuko snuck a glance at Sokka-- not very sneakily, since Sokka was looking directly at his face-- and raised his brows when he put it together. He rolled his eyes and slipped his phone halfway out of his pocket, enough to read the notification, and Sokka's heart sore when he quirked a little half smile at it. 

"Embarrassing," Zuko muttered, the tea kettle starting to rumble as it came to a boil; Sokka was certain he spotted a little blush on his face. 

"So what are we trying?" Sokka asked, sitting up and trying to ease a little flirtatiousness into his voice. 

Zuko frowned at his hands as he poured water into the tea bowl. "There are five major types of tea, so we can try some of each type.” 

“Oh,” Sokka said. He might’ve agreed to more than he expected. 

He studied Zuko’s face. He looked different in person, notably because of the rectangular glasses on his nose, but there was something else, too. A certain softness in his cheeks that Zuko must purposefully obscure with camera angles and lighting. It did something to Sokka’s stomach-- though that could be the caffeine from all the tea he’d already drank. 

“You know,” Sokka said, leaning his elbow on the table, cheek on his palm as Zuko tipped the tea into a pitcher, “you’re shorter than I imagined.” 

“Huh?” Zuko said, louder than he probably meant to as he poured more water into the bowl. He pulled it back at the wrong angle and-- “ _Oh_ _shit_ ,” he exclaimed, shaking out the hand not holding the kettle. 

“Did you burn yourself?” Sokka asked, and he wanted to be more smug or something, but Zuko was pressing the hand to his mouth and wincing like it  _ really _ hurt. 

Zuko muttered under his breath as he grabbed a towel and held it under the water dispenser behind the table, holding the ragged thing over his hand and pressing firmly. “Yeah-- no, it just surprised me, is all,” he grumbled. 

Now Sokka laughed-- knowing he wasn’t  _ hurt _ -hurt. “But you’re the fire prince.” 

Sokka became aware that Zuko’s uncle had finished helping the other customer and was subtly cleaning up a display case just around a corner from the tea table they sat at when the man snorted. Zuko’s eyes flashed and he opened his mouth to say something, to protest at the man eavesdropping, no doubt, but he snapped it shut. 

“You know,” Zuko said, caught somewhere between amusement and derision, “I thought you said you were on the way to the museum, not to stalk me.” 

“I’m not--!” Sokka said, sitting up. “I had no idea you lived in the city,” he defended himself quickly. “And I  _ am _ on the way to the museum.” 

Zuko quirked a brow, pouring more tea into Sokka’s cup. “The one three blocks up, then? I didn’t know they had a weapons exhibit.” 

“Not an exhibit,” Sokka said, picking up his cup and blowing on it carefully. “Our cultural liaison has been trying to set up a collections and archives tour for months.” 

“Your cultural liaison?” 

“Yeah, for the tribe,” Sokka said, then added, “I don’t really mention it: my Dad’s Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.” 

“Oh, I didn’t--” Zuko started to say, but then Sokka could see him quickly tallying up Sokka’s hairstyle, his eye color, and all his other Water Tribe-edness, and close his mouth. 

Sokka shrugged. “Yeah, well it was just gonna be me and my Dad, but then the liaison wanted to come-- I guess he’s ‘my Dad’s best friend’ and all, and then my sister wanted to come, and of course she invited her boyfriend, and so on.” He sighed and took a sip of tea. 

Zuko was listening with a gleam in his eyes as he sipped his own tea, wet rag still hanging over his hand. “What’s your Dad looking at there? The knives?” 

Sokka shrugged. “I guess they have a collection of paddles? Our cultural programs have been trying to teach old art forms in the schools again, since…” Sokka trailed off, hoping Zuko knew even the most rudimentary of Water Tribe history, so he wouldn’t have to explain why they worked so hard to reintroduce their own arts. He shrugged again. 

“Yeah,” Zuko said. He grabbed a new bowl and poured tea leaves into it. “Um, this is a green tea.” 

Sokka readied himself for the gut churning seaweediness of Katara’s favorite tea when he took a sip of this new tea, but was, apparently, visibly shocked when it was fresh and sweet instead, with a slight bitterness. 

Zuko tried to hide his laugh behind his hand. “Is that a good expression, or…?” he asked. 

“It’s  _ good _ ,” Sokka said, both in general amazement and in answer to Zuko’s question. “Green tea usually makes me nauseous.” 

Zuko gave a self satisfied smile-- “You probably always burn it,” he said as he refilled the bowl once again. “Green tea is the most sensitive of teas, especially ones like Sencha or Matcha, and it’s burned easily.” 

“Burned?” 

“If you use boiling water, it releases the bitter flavors that many people are sensitive to-- I used to be too impatient to make my own green tea, and only drink it when my Uncle made it. I always put boiling water on it, but you should use water between 170 and 185, depending on the particular tea.” 

Sokka held out his empty cup for more tea. “You know a lot about tea, huh?” 

Zuko blushed. “My Uncle taught me everything I know.” 

“Did he teach you about cinema, too? Your reviews are always really well thought out.” 

Zuko looked away almost  _ shyly _ before he said, “No, that was my Mom.” He fiddled with the many bowls on the table top, smelling the contents of one his Uncle had been using earlier before emptying it somewhere under the table. Clearly, he didn’t want to say any more on the topic, and Sokka respected that. “You know, one of my old teachers works at the museum now, I wonder if you’ll see him today.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“He was my calligraphy tutor as a kid, and taught me all about swords.” 

“Master Piandao?” Sokka gasped. He’d realized it was a small world when he spotted Zuko’s Uncle, but now this was just freaky. 

Zuko frowned at him. “You know him?” 

“He taught  _ me _ swordsmanship. You know about swords?” 

Zuko blushed again. “Um, that’s why I started watching your videos,” he said. Sokka was  _ doomed _ . 

His phone buzzed in his pocket just then, followed by a second and a third. He pulled his phone out and checked it. 

Three messages from Katara, and then a fourth appeared from Aang. 

_ “Where are you?”  _

_ “Aang and I are at the table by the front.” _

_ “Are we at the right place?”  _

_ “Sokka?”  _

“Oh shit,” Sokka said, paling at the continued onslaught of texts. “I’m supposed to be meeting my sister!” 

“Oh,” Zuko said, at once alarmed and concerned by Sokka’s response. “We’ll finish this if you come back another time-- or later, you can bring your sister.” 

Sokka grabbed the cup Zuko had just refilled for him, throwing back the hot tea with less thought than he should have put into it, wincing and hoping it didn’t burn his mouth, pocketing his phone and grabbing his bag from the back of his chair before he looked at Zuko, realizing how disappointed he looked. 

He hesitated before standing. There was a feeling of… airiness, in his chest, like someone stuck him with one of those helium tanks they filled balloons with, and he could barely hear himself over the rush of it: “Do you want to come to the museum with me?” 

Zuko’s eyebrow flew upward, his good eye widening. “Uh,” he said, and he sounded like someone tripped him, or punched him in the gut. “That sounds like fu-u-un,” he said, his voice rising. “But I’m…” He waved at the tea table in way of saying  _ working _ . 

“Nephew,” his uncle chimed in abruptly, “it is time for you to take your break.” He said it smoothly, like it wasn’t entirely transparent that he just decided it was Zuko’s break to let him accept Sokka’s offer. 

“No it’s not,” Zuko protested, looking at his watch. “I already had my break.” 

“Oh, then it must be the end of your shift,” his uncle insisted, coming up to stand at the end of the tea table and shooting Sokka a sly look. Sokka didn’t think about why he was so dead set on getting Zuko to go with him. 

Zuko looked at his uncle for a long second, his brows furrowing together, before something clicked. “Oh.” He looked at Sokka sheepishly. “I guess it is. Um,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “Could you let me grab my coat?” 

Sokka grinned and nodded enthusiastically, and his uncle chuckled as Zuko all but ran behind the curtain again. 

Sokka quickly texted his sister back:  _ “im bringing someone, DONT be weird okay???” _

_ “Where tf are you? You scared me >:(“  _

Sokka checked the time and rolled his eyes: it was 2:07, not even ten minutes past their meeting time. It wasn’t like Sokka to be late, but still. 

“ _ im omw, relax :(“  _

_ “should we order a drink for you? ->:”  _ Aang texted almost immediately, and Sokka laughed at his emoji: no matter how many times Sokka said it just made him look angry, Aang insisted the -> was funny ( _ it’s like my tattoo, he would excitedly insist, pointing at his own head) _ . 

He didn’t get a chance to say he’d had enough to drink, thanks, because Zuko was rushing back from the curtain, this time without the apron: he was wearing gray harem pants, which combined with the oversized striped button down made him look like a little kid who got into their parents wardrobe. Sokka grinned, and hoped he didn’t look too overfond just yet. 

“Have fun, nephew,” Zuko’s uncle said as he shooed them out the door. 

***  
\-------------  
***

_ Sokka already had the cafe’s address in his map app, leading them quickly toward their destination, when he looked at Zuko and realized he’d changed his glasses too-- to some of the nerdiest looking frames he’d ever seen on someone his own age. They were round and huge, and Sokka smothered a laugh but couldn’t prevent Zuko from seeing his reaction.  _

_ “These are-- they’re better for reading the little labels!” Zuko exclaimed. “Bigger, um, field of vision!”  _

_ “No, no, they’re--” adorable, Sokka stopped himself from saying. “They’re just different.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's injured eye goes lazy sometimes in this au, so he wears a patch over his good eye to correct it [ like this](https://vaenire.tumblr.com/post/623423878083051520) :) 
> 
> tell me what you liked! tell me what you would like to see in the next chapter because idk what's happening yet! <3
> 
> edit: woops! meant to add, this is loosely based in a Seattle-ish city, and the Jasmine Dragon is based on my favorite tea shop in the Chinatown-International District <3 if any Seattleites need a tea shop rec, hit me up :))
> 
> also also: the "little lidded bowls" are gaiwans, the superior tea steeping vessel. quote me on that


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is part of a series now! the sequel is in the works!

Katara and Aang were seated near the front of the cafe when Sokka pulled the door open for Zuko. 

They called out to Sokka from the booth they’d snagged, and Katara was jumping to her feet to pull him into a hug. 

While they called at least once a week-- and for several hours at a time-- they hadn’t been able to see each other in person since the last mid-quarter break over a month before. Sokka was more of a ‘local’ than most of his classmates, but forty five minutes was still the furthest he’d been away from home for an extended amount of time since the last family road trip, and he was happy to see her so he squeezed her tight. 

He realized their hug was lasting longer than he meant, and put his hands on her shoulders to keep her within arm’s length as he backed up and nodded to Zuko. 

“This is Zuko,” he said smartly. Her eyes followed his gesture, and she couldn’t cover her surprise fast enough. Yeah, she knew exactly who Zuko was after the dozens of his videos he’d sent her over the years, and Sokka had to internally facepalm.  It had only taken  _ three  _ videos sent to Katara for her to start teasing him for having a crush on the eccentric YouTuber.  Maybe he should’ve told her  _ who _ he was bringing, to  _ help _ her not be weird. 

Zuko cocked his head and smiled awkwardly as he waved to her. 

“We ordered you a cream soda,” Aang said, sliding the glass across the table to the seat Sokka was scooting into. Zuko sat gingerly at the edge of the booth bench, hands in his lap. 

“Thanks,” Sokka said, cracking the straw’s paper wrapper on the table and pulling it off and sticking it through the layer of cream sitting on top. “This is Aang,” Sokka said even as he tried to take a swig of the soda. “And my sister, Katara.” 

Aang waved happily, Katara gave a tight-lipped smile before shooting Sokka a squinting look. 

An awkward silence fell on the table, broken only by Aang slurping on his matcha latte. 

“So,” Katara started, and Sokka internally prepared himself for what he knew she was going to ask. “How’d you two meet again?” She said it with a pointed smile at Sokka. Sokka wasn’t one to keep many secrets from his sister-- at least not benign ones like making a new friend-- but in his defense he’d only started talking to Zuko three days ago, and he’d last called Katara  _ five _ days ago. Which, really, made her question even funnier: for Katara to know about Zuko as Sokka’s distant internet crush one day and then meet him in person the next. Well, Sokka had to imagine she felt just about the same as Sokka did. Maybe not the exact same-- he hoped she didn’t feel the same about meeting Zuko in person that Sokka did. 

He realized that the silence was stretching far too long. 

So how could he explain ‘oh, funny story actually, we started DMing the other day and then I just recognized his uncle off the street and came into his place of work and then his uncle practically shoved him out the door after we talked for twenty minutes.’

Zuko, bless him, seemed to realize he needed to step in. He shrugged casually. 

“Just... around.” 

Sokka shot Zuko a look-- he didn’t know Katara like Sokka did, and she would never believe that. That answer did the opposite of damage control. 

Katara just raised her brows and shrugged, seeming to accept it. That raised a half dozen red flags in the back of Sokka’s mind. 

“Wait,” Aang said suddenly, sitting up straight in his chair. “You do those movie reviews on YouTube!” 

Zuko flushed. “Uh, yeah.” 

“No, no, I watched your review of  _ The Monkey’s Wife _ !” 

Sokka was about to roll his eyes--  _ yes, Aang, we all watched the review _ \-- but there was a fire in Aang’s eyes now. 

“You totally misunderstood the step-brother subplot,” Aang said, thrusting an accusatory finger through the air. 

“ _ What? _ ” Zuko said, that same fire flaring up in his eye, too. “If anything, it’s not my fault that the subplot was poorly executed.” 

“Subtlety doesn’t make it poorly executed,” Aang insisted. 

“Subtlety? Please, as if that director had the  _ skill _ to--” 

Sokka zoned out at this point, blankly looking between Aang and Zuko, eyes on whoever was speaking, as they got into a heated debate over the symbolism of one thing or another in a movie he’d never even heard of beyond Zuko’s video review. 

Katara caught his eye at some point, and the slight quirk of her right brow and the corner of her mouth let him know she was  _ not _ done asking about Zuko. Later, of course. That meant he had time to get his story straight. 

Which, really, what was there to the story? Zuko tagged him on Instagram, and he responded. They chatted a bit (and maybe Sokka was being a little flirty in their messages, but Zuko clearly didn’t pick up on that at all, so whatever), and then Sokka accidentally found him in real life. And invited him to the museum-- as a friend! Sokka was always quick at making new friends, so it wasn’t weird, really. 

Katara broke eye contact and shoved her cheek into her hand, looking at Aang and trying to piece together what he and Zuko were talking about now. Sokka was inclined to mirror her, notice the way Zuko’s eyes widened when Aang continued to challenge his interpretation of the movie, the way he gestured loosely with his left hand while his right hand stayed still on the table. 

His hair was shaggier in person, and Sokka could see how thick it was-- he could probably put it into a bun on top, with how long it was. He could probably lose a hand running it through the locks. He didn’t let himself think anymore on that. 

At some point Zuko laughed, and it reached his eyes even though the sound was soft, and he glanced over at Sokka to find him staring. Sokka sat ramrod straight in his seat-- he  _ was _ mirroring Katara, and he tried to play it off by thinking of something to say related to Zuko’s conversation with Aang. 

“Yeah, movies,” he said with a smart nod. 

Zuko’s smile stayed in place, but he lifted a brow at Sokka, and Sokka returned it with a pointedly oblivious nod. He looked at Katara again to spare himself, and found her looking at him smugly. 

“It’s time to go meet Dad,” she said, in a tone that clearly told Sokka he was an idiot for bringing this boy to meet their father and not thinking about how everyone would see through their sudden friendship to his big, fat crush. 

Sokka may have seriously miscalculated

\--

Aang and Zuko kept up their lively discussion as the group walked to the museum, Zuko’s pacing quickening as their disagreements became more heated. 

Sokka and Katara fell into step behind them, linking arms casually. 

“You know, you owe me,” Katara said, leaning up to Sokka’s ear and squeezing his arm. 

“How’s that?” he rebuked skeptically, squeezing her arm where they linked them. 

“Well, your crush is stealing my boyfriend,” she said, nodding a half block ahead of them where Aang and Zuko were scoffing at each other. 

Sokka should have disregarded such an accusation, or pointed out once again that he and Zuko were just friends. Instead he blushed pathetically and glared at her. 

“So what do I owe you?” 

Katara brought her other hand up to her face, tapping on her chin. “Buy me something from the museum gift shop and I won’t accidentally mention anything to Zuko.” 

He grit his teeth and shook his head in chagrin. “Fine.” 

“So really, how did you meet him? I didn’t know he lived  _ anywhere _ nearby.” 

“I didn’t either,” Sokka said softly, with a shrug. “He was working in a tea shop I stopped into on my way.” 

“On the way?”

He smiled stiffly: “Yeah, like an hour ago.” 

She stared at him incredulously and he kept his eyes anywhere other than on her. She shoved her elbow into his side and he laughed, still keeping his eyes elevated over her head. “And tea? I thought you hated tea.” 

“Well,” Sokka sniffed, “as it turns out, I do like tea. You just burn yours.” 

“What?” she exclaimed, scandalized. “No I don’t!” 

Sokka stuck his nose up with another sniff. “Ask Zuko, he was telling me all about it.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Sokka was going to ask what she meant by that, but then they were stopping outside the wooden museum doors, Aang pulling it open. 

Hakoda and Bato were already at the front desk, Bato’s elbows leaning on the desktop as Hakoda spoke to the front desk attendant animatedly. 

“Dad!” Katara called to him, and Hakoda whipped his head around to grin at the group. 

He abandoned the front desk, clapping a hand on Sokka’s shoulder before pulling him into a half hug. 

“How’s the city boy doing?” Hakoda asked jokingly, letting Sokka go to nudge him with his shoulder. “And Aang!” he said, catching sight of his daughter’s boyfriend and pulling him into a half hug as well. 

Katara watched it all with a grin-- she had driven up with Hakoda, but he still patted her shoulder, too. He paused when his smile turned onto Zuko. 

Sokka could see the gears turning in his Dad’s head-- was he supposed to remember this one, too? 

“This is Zuko,” Sokka said before Dad could say something embarrassing. 

“Ah,” Hakoda said, a little sheepish and how obvious he’d made himself. “Is that everyone then?” 

“No, we’re still waiting for--” Katara started saying, but just then the door pulled open again, followed by a series of taps on the ground as Toph came in. She swiped her cane over the ground in front of her, coming to stop a few feet inside the door. 

“Hi Toph!” 

The whole group greeted the girl, who grinned and crossed the lobby toward them-- even Zuko said hello, which Sokka didn’t think about until Toph stopped abruptly, frowning. Her head was bent down slightly toward her cane, not unusual, but then she screwed up her brows and angled her head toward Zuko. 

She whipped her cane across the floor in front of her, cracking suddenly again Zuko’s tennis shoe before she crossed the space toward him and grabbed his arm. 

“Uh, hey,” Zuko said.

Toph grinned and dropped his arm, her hand becoming a fist and punching Zuko  _ hard _ on the bicep. Zuko rubbed his arm. 

“Toph!” Sokka cried out, and Katara was already stepping in to pull Toph away from him when Zuko huffed a little laugh and Toph linked their arms. 

"So who invited  _ you _ ?" Toph asked, and Sokka would protest her rudeness if Zuko didn't laugh along with her. 

"Uh, Sokka?" 

Toph scoffed, and Sokka was definitely going to protest that. "Since when are  _ you _ friends with captain boomerang?" 

"Since... recently," Zuko said lamely. Katara was going to take the piss out of Sokka until he told her the whole story, he knew that by the way Katara put her hands on her hips now. 

"Since when do  _ you _ two know each other!" Sokka cried.

Toph barked a laugh. "Sparky and me have been in a visually impaired martial arts club together for years," she said. "I wipe the floor with him every week." 

"That's not true," Zuko said-- and the calm way he said it told Sokka that no, it really wasn't true. That wasn't his chief concern right now though-- because if Toph had known Zuko for literal years, why hadn't she ever mentioned it? Sokka was sure he'd sent Toph a handful of Zuko's videos over the years, too (and maybe, if he didn't  _ want _ everyone in their friend circle to know he had a crush on Zuko, he shouldn't have been so open in his absolute obsession) (once, when Sokka had tried to promise to pull back on sharing his obsession, Aang said it made him happy when Sokka shared his hyperfixations with him, and Sokka had felt more at ease with it. Sokka wondered if Aang ever regretted saying that). 

Back to the point: Toph couldn't have just said 'hey, I know that guy, he lives literal miles from your apartment' or 'oh Zuko? Yeah, he's exactly as charming in real life as he is in the videos-- if not more so.' Okay, that last one sounded wrong to even imagine Toph saying, but his point stood. 

"You're here for the swords, aren't you?" Toph continued, turning her face to Zuko. "Sokka's getting footage for his YouTube series, you know." 

"Yeah, I know about his series," Zuko said, and there was a strange strained quality to his voice when he said it, like he was trying to say something to her without actually saying it. 

"Oh," Toph said. "Oh." She grinned. 

Sokka frowned at Katara and Aang, and Aang shrugged helpfully before Toph suddenly dropped Zuko's arm and shot her hand out for Aang's instead. She grinned in Zuko's direction as she folded her cane and tucked it into the crook of her other elbow. 

The front desk attendant was talking to Hakoda again now, indicating that the group should follow him through the museum to the entrance to the archives-- past mouth watering exhibits on ancient hunting techniques and fossil formation and the geological history of the region. Maybe Sokka could sneak through the exhibits after they were done in the archives… and if the way Zuko’s eyes lingered on the display cases they passed, he would be down for it as well. 

When they came to a door reading 'staff only,' the group came to a stop and Zuko all but walked into Sokka-- they both were so distracted by the exhibits they didn't realize how closely they were following each other. 

"Sorry," Zuko squeaked, backing up to put a foot between them, and Sokka mumbled an apology as well, spotting Toph's grin over Zuko's shoulder where she still gripped Aang's arm, Katara on the boy's other side. 

The curator, a miserable sounding man named Jeong Jeong that Sokka had been emailing back and forth with for the past month, met them in the little nook tucked away from the main museum in front of the staff door. He spun out a spiel about archive rules-- gloves must be worn before touching artifacts, backpacks and jackets need to be left in the lockers provided, no flash photography... Sokka found himself zoning out. 

He also found himself thinking about the glasses that Zuko had switched into before they left the tea shop-- the big lenses made his eyes bigger, too, and really made the gold flecks pop against the light brown of his irises. The gold rims of the glasses didn't hurt, either. 

And Sokka should have figured he was into martial arts like Toph was. Beyond having found out that they had both studied swordsmanship under Piandao, Zuko had broad shoulders that could only indicate intensive physical training, and Zuko didn't look to be either a team sports player nor a run of the mill gym rat. 

"Sokka?" he heard Katara say. He shook his head and blinked himself out of his trance, horrified to see Zuko smiling at him with a confused pinch in his brows. He’d been staring. 

"Huh?" 

"Are you going to put your bag in the locker?" Katara said, laughing at him under her breath, and Sokka couldn't hide the glare he shot her. 

Sokka pulled his satchel strap over his head and threw it into the locker beside Katara’s purse and Aang’s little backpack. 

Zuko, who apparently only carried a wallet and his phone, was already falling in line behind Bato and Hakoda to go inside, so Sokka hurried over as well. He didn’t notice how Toph seemed to take her time putting her things into the locker until the group was waiting just inside the archives-- even then, he was distracted by the way Zuko seemed to be trying to memorize everything about the room, big eyes darting from the large wooden tables and magnifying glasses and--

Toph, still holding Aang’s arm and grinning like the cat about to catch the mouse, finally joined them, and Jeong Jeong led them through the sterile white maze of cabinets and drawers to a back corner where a tarp was secured over the wall. They passed a wall full of what looked like hunting spears, and Sokka glimpsed a row of wooden statues before they turned another corner. Aside from the occasional large item, the plain white shelving units of the archives did not give any hints to their content. 

“The museum houses textiles and artifacts from all over the world,” Jeong Jeong says drily, pulling open a metal drawer to show an ancient Fire Nation tapestry with flecks of gold and blood red, as an example, before swiftly shutting it again. “The paddle collection, therefore, is one of the largest in the world.” He grabbed a box of disposable plastic gloves off a seemingly randomly placed table and handed it to Bato, who took a pair for himself and handed it around the group. 

Jeong Jeong removed the tarp from the wall, revealing a long rack of wooden paddles. 

“Our Northern Tribe liaison helped us separate the northern from the southern styles-- when the collection passed from private hands to the Museum, there wasn’t much information on the origins of each paddle.” 

Sokka saw the look Bato and Hakoda gave each other at that. Bato seemed to get over it quickly as he moved to get a closer look at the paddles. Sokka wasn’t particularly interested in the paddles, or the old ship that the museum had recovered from a river bank-- but it was part of Bato’s current project, and Bato had always managed to make a lot of boring things interesting to Sokka. 

Sokka grinned when Bato pulled one of the paddles off of its rack, holding it out without looking for Hakoda to take. 

“I presume we may use this table?” Bato said to Jeong Jeong coolly, who seemed a little surprised Bato was rushing straight into the project without further consultation with the curator. 

“Of course.” 

With that, Bato pulled his reading glasses from his pocket and placed them on the tip of his nose and inspected the designs of each paddle before passing them to Hakoda silently, who gently placed each on the table as quickly as possible. Once Bato was satisfied that he had selected all of the artifacts of use, he gestured for the kids to pull up chairs. 

Bato, in his subtle way, began filing through the collection, pointing out decorative motifs and blade shapes. Sokka soaked up the information, trying to look at them the way Bato did, asking questions about grips and shoulders, while Katara and Aang admired the carved designs and helped Toph run her fingers over them. 

Sokka realized belatedly that Zuko may not be as interested in the paddles as the rest of the group-- but when he glanced over at the other boy, he was quietly bent over a paddle that Hakoda was appraising, his Dad quietly explaining the anatomy of a paddle to him. Smiling, he tuned back into what Bato was saying. 

Before long, though, Sokka’s attention was brought back to the world when a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up quickly and grinned when his old Master smiled back. 

“Sokka,” Piandao said, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Piandao!” Sokka replied, jumping up to throw his arms over the man. 

The man awkwardly put one arm around Sokka in return before putting his hands on both of Sokka’s shoulders and holding him at an arm’s length to look him up and down. 

“You look all grown up,” his Master said warmly, before raising his brow at something behind Sokka’s shoulder. 

“Master Piandao,” Zuko said, and Sokka spied him bowing over his shoulder. Piandao released Sokka and returned the bow. 

“Zuko,” he said, the warmth staying in his voice, accompanied now with pleasant surprise. He clasped one of Zuko’s shoulders affectionately. His brow furrowed and he looked at Sokka again. “Did I know my two best students knew one another?” 

That caught Sokka’s attention. Zuko was Piandao’s best student? Next to Sokka? 

Piandao turned to Hakoda before either of them could manage an answer, both glancing at each other curiously. 

“May I borrow your son, Chief Hakoda?” 

Hakoda looked up from what Bato was showing him to nod and smile, and then Piandao was leading him and Zuko up another narrow passageway among the containers and cabinets. 

“I have a treat for you today,” Piandao said with a small smile over his shoulder at Sokka. 

The easy comradery he had with Piandao made him swell with pride-- the man had not been quite so friendly when he had first approached the man for lessons, but by now Sokka’s relentless friendliness and thirst to learn had snuck past the man’s stoic exterior. Sokka liked to think of himself as a guy who could befriend anyone in the world. It was a point of pride. 

Piandao unlocked another door to reveal a small office, desk overflowing with long boxes and folders of papers. The man grabbed a box and various materials off of a pair of chairs Sokka hadn’t even seen, adding the box to the stack on the desk, and motioned for them to sit. 

He started rifling through the boxes, glimpses of various blades and swords rushing in and out of view until he found the one he was looking for. 

“What do you make of this?” Piandao said, carefully pulling out a long, handleless blade. He handed it to Sokka carefully, who took it with surprise. Jeong Jeong had made a big deal about gloves, and it was weird to hold this in his bare hands. 

It was a stone blade, about a foot and a half long, and less than a half inch thick. It was knapped with incredible skill, no imperfections taking away from its smooth shape. 

“That can’t be a sword, can it?” Zuko said, scooting forward in his seat to peer at it. 

“Well, it’s clearly a blade,” Sokka said, carefully running a finger over its edge. “But you’re right, it was never used. Where’d you get it from?” 

“A friend in the Northern tribe made it for me,” PIandao said. “It’s a replica of a grave good their archaeological team uncovered.” 

“A grave…” Sokka almost blanched. It was a replica, though, so not as weird. 

“So it wouldn’t be used, right? Because it would snap if you tried to hit something with this, it’s too delicate.” 

Piandao nodded. “Very astute. Pakku theorizes it was more of a display of skill. It took my friend several attempts, even as a master.” He held out his hand to take it back. “Which reminds me,” he said, pausing to put a finger on his chin, “you  _ did _ say you would lead a knapping demonstration for me, didn’t you?” 

“Oh,” Sokka flushed. “I did say that. And school’s gotten out, so…” 

He glanced at Zuko, who was looking at Sokka out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, we’ll have to put something together. Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “what did you want to look at for your video?” 

\--

Zuko helped Sokka pick out a selection of swords and daggers to display for his footage, sitting patiently offscreen as Sokka took a few takes. He also gave criticism--  _ helpful _ criticism-- of the way Sokka held some of the smaller blades, fact checking the information Sokka shared. 

Sokka rarely re-shot footage, but Zuko had several good points he wanted to add in, but even so it flew by. Zuko helped him pack up the camera equipment he’d set up while Piandao returned the weapons to their rightful place. 

“You boys knowl, now that I know you two are acquainted, I may call in a favor. I’ve been looking at my current students to give demonstrations during my summer workshops, but their skills just don’t match up well. If you two were available for some demonstrative sparring…” 

“Sounds like fun!” Sokka said immediately, throwing an arm over Zuko’s shoulders, “I would love to see what this guy can do!” 

Zuko tensed momentarily under his arm, and Sokka was about to take his arm back and apologize when Zuko relaxed and grinned at Sokka. 

Hm. Sokka realized just how close they were standing, then, and how warm Zuko was-- even through his hideous shirt-- and he could easily push those bangs out of Zuko’s eyes. Instead, Sokka let his arm slide off the guy’s shoulders casually and opened his mouth to make a light joke, but found his throat a little too tight for that. He nodded resolutely. 

“I do have a meeting very soon,” Piandao said, checking his wrist watch. “I can bring you back to your Father or I can let you into the exhibits?” 

Sokka looked at Zuko, who seemed to be on his same page. 

“Exhibits, please.” 

\--

Zuko’s ridiculously large rimmed glasses came into good use, it turned out. With Katara and Aang, Sokka would be dragged through each room much too quickly, his sister groaning when he stopped to read the plaques. Zuko on the other hand stopped beside Sokka at every single placard, studying the artifacts in their display cases. 

“So,” Sokka said as they studied the various types of igneous rock in the case, “We weren’t able to finish my tea lesson.” 

Zuko hummed, bending down to squint and read some fine print. “No we weren’t,” he agreed. 

“So, maybe we’ll have to meet up again and do that,” Sokka said, involuntarily rubbing the back of his neck. 

Zuko looked at him, a slow, shy smile spreading on his face, reaching both his eyes. “Maybe we will.” 

Sokka’s breaths came with a little more difficulty as he returned the smile and nodded. 

\-- 

They met back up with the group in the gift shop, and Katara already had a plush otter seal picked out for Sokka to buy her. Her hush money, he thought of it internally. 

While Sokka purchased the plush, Toph wrapped her arm free of Aang around Zuko’s arm. Sokka couldn’t hear what she was saying into his ear, but he could see the way it made Zuko blush and try to twist his arm out of her grip. Her grip strength was brutal, though, which Sokka knew from experience. Zuko’s arm stayed securely in her grasp as she grinned up at him. 

“Hey, hey, stop harassing him,” Sokka said as he handed the bagged plush to his sister, who grinned and tore it out of its packaging immediately, squeezing it and pushing it against Aang’s arm, who also pinched it excitedly. 

Toph released Zuko with reluctance, and Zuko rubbed his arm bashfully. Toph was still grinning. 

“Well,” Hakoda said, clapping Sokka on the shoulder. “There’s only five seats in the car. You wanted a ride back to your apartment, didn’t you?” 

Sokka did the math: including his Dad and Bato, there were seven of them. He turned to Zuko.

“Do you live far?” 

“Uh, above the shop,” he said quietly. 

He turned back to his Dad, perhaps a bit too excited. “What if you gave Toph a ride home really quick, and I walk Zuko home and you can pick me up?” 

He didn’t read into the look Hakoda gave him, or the look Bato gave him, and instead knocked his shoulder against Zuko’s. 

“Alright.”

And so Zuko and Sokka were back on the sidewalk. They slid into a casual pace and a silence that Sokka couldn’t decide was comfortable or not. Zuko had his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes on the pavement. He knew the streets well, walking without having to look and taking a turn at a corner without so much as a sign to Sokka, who scrambled to catch back up. 

“The museum was cool,” Sokka said. 

“It was,” Zuko agreed, stilted again like he’d been in the tea shop earlier. 

Sokka didn’t know what happened next. He didn’t exactly have a plan for accidentally meeting Zuko, or spending an afternoon with him and his other friends. He really hadn’t expected Zuko to know Toph: maybe that was a good conversation topic. 

“So you and Toph?” 

“Huh?” Zuko sputtered. “I-- I know her. That’s all.” 

“Y-yeah,” Sokka said. He did not mean anything more by that, but he was blushing despite himself. “I mean like, you do martial arts together?” 

“Oh,” Zuko said. “Yeah.” 

Sokka knew his eye injury happened in his teen years (because Zuko’s channel had a year or two with no updates when he was younger, and when he resumed posting regularly, he had a scar on his face and no explanation was ever given) (memes making fun of his channel dropped off sharply at that point). He wondered how much that had affected Zuko’s martial arts, but he didn’t know how to frame the question. 

Sokka wanted to ask a million questions about Zuko, wanted to try all the teas Zuko would make for him and see him sword fight and, and, and.

But he just walked beside him silently instead, and mirrored the way he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

The tea shop was much too close, and Zuko was stopping in front of the store window much too soon. 

“Well,” Sokka said. 

“Well.” 

“It was fun hanging out.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko said softly. 

“When can I come by again?” Sokka asked, and quickly added, “to finish trying tea and stuff.” 

Smooth, Sokka. 

Zuko’s smile positively glowed now, and Sokka could feel the warmth of it in his chest. Still, Zuko shrugged. 

“I work every day.” He ducked his head a little. “I mean, even if I wasn’t working, we live above the shop, so…” 

Sokka was mirroring Zuko’s smile now, and his cheeks hurt a little bit from how much he’d been smiling this afternoon. 

“So whenever?” 

Zuko nodded. 

Sokka’s phone buzzed then, and he knew it was his Dad letting him know they’d dropped off Toph. Too soon, Sokka lamented. 

“I look forward to it,” Sokka said, and tried not to read into the way Zuko blushed and ducked his head a little further. “I need to,” he said, pointing over his shoulder back to the main intersection, where it would be easier for his Dad to pick him up from. 

“Right,” Zuko said, and reached for the tea shop door, still smiling at Sokka. 

“Right.” 

Sokka gave an awkward wave and turned on his heel, grabbing his phone to tell his Dad where to pick him up and pretending that he wasn’t already kicking himself for not saying something more. 

“Wait!” he heard Zuko call after him. 

Sokka looked over his shoulder, but Zuko was already half jogging to stop in front of him-- which was ridiculous, because Sokka had only taken a handful of steps away. 

“Can-- um,” Zuko stopped himself again. “Can I get your number? It’s just that Instagram really sucks my phone battery and like, you could let me know you were coming so I could get all the tea out, and--” 

“Yes!” Sokka cut him off. Zuko was excitedly shoving his phone into Sokka’s hand, and Sokka filled his number out, typing in his name and an emoji with its tongue out. 

“Great,” Zuko said, “I’ll just, um, text you.” 

“Great!” 

He heard the squelch of tires pulling to the curb beside them, and Sokka glanced over to see his Dad’s car. 

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Sokka said, waving once again as he walked over to the car. Bato was in the front seat, and pointed to the other side of the car to indicate he should sit behind his Dad in the driver’s side. Sokka waved over the car roof again, trying to memorize how Zuko looked on the curb with his stupid outfit and his cute glasses and the hint of a blush that Sokka was probably imagining, but it looked good on him nonetheless. 

He squished into the seat beside Katara, who sat in the middle, and buckled quickly as Hakoda pulled away from the curb. His phone buzzed and he read the text from Zuko with a smile on his face, saving Zuko’s contact with a heart emoji. 

Then he realized how close Katara was leaning into his side, and tore his phone out of her line of vision with a sputter when he saw her cheeky grin. 

Then he realized everyone else in the car was looking at him, too. 

“What!” he exclaimed, face heating. 

He saw his Dad readjust the rear view mirror to look at him better, and Sokka could see the amused quirk of his brow. 

“So, tell me who that boy was again?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok sorry this chapter took forever to post.... i just really like museums and i put too much detail into... the museum :) so i had to discipline myself and Focus 
> 
> ALSO if you are interested in the sequel (4 times they didn't realize they were dating + 1 time it finally clicked), subscribe to the series! this is part 1! 
> 
> finally, as always, check out my [atla blog ](https://meteor-sword.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> based on[ this](https://meteor-sword.tumblr.com/post/622887498430971904/zukka-youtuber-au) post of mine 
> 
> check out my[ atla blog](https://meteor-sword.tumblr.com) or my[ main](https://vaenire.tumblr.com) :eyes: 
> 
> OK i've decided i like this AU a lot, so this is the first part of the series! Subscribe to it if you'd like to see more! <3


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